


Built to Fall Apart

by Nikipa



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Chronological, F/M, Hallucinations, M/M, Past Relationship(s), War, Youth, ada cares for her brother, cigarettes like so many ones, freddie and tommy are exes fight me, greta who is greta, hopeful boys, sad Tommy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:28:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22202608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikipa/pseuds/Nikipa
Summary: "Maybe their love had died on the battlefield like a proud soldier, like many men they ended up calling their friends. Maybe the violence of the war had been strong enough to kill feelings, even the purest ones.But maybe Freddie never intended to let it die and maybe he never forgave Tommy for giving up."or Freddie and Tommy's relationship through the time until Freddie's death. And even after.
Relationships: Ada Shelby & Tommy Shelby, Ada Shelby/Freddie Thorne, Grace Burgess/Tommy Shelby, Tommy Shelby/Freddie Thorne
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	Built to Fall Apart

**Author's Note:**

> (title from Out of the Woods - Taylor Swift)
> 
> The chemistry between these boys! Please, something happened when they were younger or they wouldn't be so mad at each other.  
> Canon divergence: Greta never existed

They grew up together. Tommy didn't really know how it happened but, for as long as he could remember, Freddie had always been a constant in his life. He was his rock, his safety net. Always there to remind him when he was going too far. The only one who never got impressed by his growing power and money. The only one who was able to keep him down to earth.

  
  


Freddie was one of the rare boys of his age. Of course, he had his brothers, but it was different to talk to someone who wasn't his family. It was better to talk to someone who had no idea how bad things were at home. Someone who didn't know Tommy cried every night in his bed as he heard his parents shouting at each other. Someone who didn't know he took Ada by his side so she wouldn't be too scared by the noises alone in the dark. Someone who didn't know half of the weight he was carrying.

  
  


So Tommy spent most of his time away from home in Freddie's company.

He needed someone to talk to, to play with, to change his mind and Freddie needed someone. They became friends and they thought it would last forever. They used to be kids and play football on the streets during the day. They used to be kids and wrestle together friendly until Polly eventually came out to tell them to stop before they hurt themselves.

  
  


Cause they were young once. Young men, filled with dreams and ideals France had easily crushed. Tommy wanted to take care of horses. He would often describe his perfect gipsy life to Freddie, how free it would be. And because they were often drunk or high, he promised him they'd live together in the forest, that he would teach him how to ride, how to understand horses and spirits.

But Freddie had bigger goals. He wanted to change the world. That poor, young, boy thought he could make it a better place. And Tommy laughed at him cause he knew better than encourage him but he always secretly hoped the world could become that better place Freddie dreamed of.

  
  


"Stop laughing, Tommy!", his friend had once told him, "don't you think it would be great, a world like that?"

  
  


"Never said it wouldn't", 16-year-old Tommy had answered, already lighting up his stolen cigarette, "just that it can't happen."

  
  


Teenage-dreamer Freddie had tried to argue but Tommy had stopped him with a smoky kiss. He used to do that, sometimes, when he was out of things to say. It would make Freddie blush furiously and, most importantly, it would shut him up.

Because at 16, Tommy was very much doubting how a world with a criminal father and an unhappy mother could become a better place.

  
  


They were young and almost reckless. Tommy had the Shelby name to protect him and Freddie had Tommy. They did what boys of their age did: running through the streets on endless nights, having deep conversations about things that wouldn't matter once the Sun came up. They kissed. Long enough to know every part of the other's lips. Long enough to feel dizzy. Long enough to believe nothing else mattered. Long enough for the world to be theirs. Long enough for _I love you_ to be said and long enough for _I love you_ to be true.

  
  


Cause at 18 Tommy had been sure of only two things in his life: he hated his father more than anything and he was deeply in love with his best friend. He had emerged in Freddie's flat in the middle of the night, tears streaming down his face and anger bowling up in his veins.

  
  


"He left!!" he had screamed, hitting the wall with his fist in front of a sleepy Freddie, "that fucking bastard left without a word!!"

  
  


Then, he had burst into tears and Freddie had held him during all his sobbings. Freddie had put soft kisses on his damaged fist and he had taken him to bed. He had kissed his face, he had wiped his tears and Tommy had never felt this safe.

  
  


"I love you, Freddie, I do.", he had whispered for the first time, impressed by how light that made him feel.

  
  


"I know," Freddie had whispered back because he was a tease, "and I love you too, Tom'".

  
  


And it had been glorious, magnificent, the real beginning of their end.

  
  


Because the War did not only took their souls but it also took their hearts. Because they were still young when they became soldiers and experienced fear like they never did. Because Tommy still had hope until he had to face war's atrocity.

  
  


And maybe their love had never existed but they were too careless to notice, maybe it just had been a teenage fantasy.

  
  


Or maybe it had existed and they just lost it somewhere between gunshots, agony screams, and shovel sounds. Maybe they left it there because it was becoming too heavy and they couldn't carry it too. Yeah, maybe their love had died on the battlefield like a proud soldier, like many men they ended up calling their friends. Maybe the violence of the war had been strong enough to kill feelings, even the purest ones.

  
  


But maybe Freddie never intended to let it die and maybe he never forgave Tommy for giving up.

Maybe Tommy only wanted to protect them and had to sacrifice what he cared most about to do it. He was smart enough to know two young men in love couldn't survive a war. He was brave enough to understand they needed to bury their love in the tunnels.

  
  


And, surely, that had hurt more than taking a bullet.

  
  


*

  
  


"You two used to love each other.", Polly told him as she served herself a cup of tea.

Tommy was standing in front of the fireplace, his third cigarette of the day between his lips, shoulders stooped and his whole body tensed. He didn't need to ask who she was talking about. Freddie had just stormed out of the house after another fight between them. Tommy sighed, he couldn't even remember what it was about. It was just about fighting anyway these days. Their only way to talk was through yelling.

  
  


"We did.", he answered because his aunt seemed to know everything.

  
  


"What happened?", she asked, sipping her tea.

  
  


Tommy turned his face towards her, an exasperated look on his face as if it was the most stupid question he'd ever heard. "War happened, Polly.", he said harshly.

  
  


She rolled her eyes, "I know that. He even took a bullet for you."

  
  


"Trust me," Tommy scoffed, "we both wish he hadn't."

  
  


Polly clicked her tongue and shook her head. It wasn't her point and Tommy knew it perfectly. He just chose to ignore her. She stayed silent for a while, looking at her nephew pouring himself a glass of whiskey at only 10 in the morning. He was getting harder to understand these days.

  
  


"Ada really loves him.", she said just to say something.

  
  


Tommy nearly dropped his glass as his whole body tensed again. He walked to the fireplace to watch the flames in silence. The clock was the only sound in the room and Polly wondered if she was gonna get an answer or if he would just pretend like he hadn't heard her. But he threw his cigarette into the fire, stood again to take his glass and drank it bottoms up.

  
  


"Can't blame her.", he whispered, something hazy in his eyes, before escaping the room.

  
  


  
  


They were still supposed to be young when they came back from France. But everything had changed. They drifted apart cause they'd lost who they were. They weren't in love anymore, that's what they told themselves, the war had killed their hearts. They were finally back but it felt like their lives had ended months ago, on the battlefield. They were not men anymore, they were ghosts. They couldn't bear to see each other because, seeing the other, was just a reminder of what they wished they could forget.

Soon enough, they found a solution: they started fighting. Again and again. They were mad at each other because they needed to blame something for the ache in their chests and the demons in their minds.

They were mad at each other because they needed to be mad at someone and it couldn't be themselves.

They were mad at each other because it was the easiest way to forget how happy they had been before.

They decided to hate each other because it was so much easier than to admit their feelings had died in France. They were angry because, at least, it made them feel something.

  
  


~

  
  


"But how did you know?" Tommy asked, confused.

  
  


He had just saved Freddie's ass from jail like the perfect brother in law he had to be. Ada had yelled at him, with all the anger she had kept for years and it wasn't even his fault. She even slapped him but he went on and saved her husband anyway. Because he'd do anything for her. _And for him._

  
  


"I know you, Tommy! For fuck's sake, we were once in love." Freddie yelled, "I knew you wouldn't sell me to the police. Especially not on a night like that.", he sighed and Tommy looked at the ground, not talking. "It just took a bit more time to understand why you would take the blame."

  
  


"You didn't tell Ada." Tommy noticed.

  
  


"Well, she's not stupid, I'm pretty sure she knows somehow. And, even if she doesn't, it's not my secret to tell."

  
  


Tommy nodded, a rare, soft smile on his lips. "Thank you" he mumbled.

  
  


He tried to look as nonchalant as he could while taking a cigarette in his vest. Something was dancing in his mind, something he forced himself to forget but something Freddie obviously never did.

  
  


"Were we, though?", he finally asked, fingers around his lighter.

  
  


Freddie grabbed the precious from Tommy's fingers, getting an exasperated smile out of him, before repeating.

  
  


"Were we what?"

  
  


"In love," Tommy said and took another cigarette in front of Freddie's wide eyes.

  
  


"Of course we were," he replied, a bit shaken by the question. Because it shouldn't be a question.

  
  


It should be a certainty. It should be hours of messy cuddles and kisses. It should be their hands firmly linked on their way to France. It should be Freddie, screaming and pushing Tommy to take a bullet for him. It should be the sound of their hearts breaking when they realized they weren't able to look at each other without seeing war.

  
  


Tommy distantly smiled at him like he was an old wise man looking at his naive disciple. "You were", he stated.

  
  


" _We_ were", Freddie strongly corrected.

  
  


Tommy shrugged like it didn't matter and put his cigarette between his -still curled up in a smile- lips. Freddie lost all the self-control he never had.

  
  


"What the fucked are you playing at, Tommy?", he hissed.

  
  


"It's not a game, Freddie. And, even if it was, you'd have lost."

  
  


"What are you even talking about?" Freddie asked, angrier than lost.

  
  


"You married my sister.", Tommy said casually as if it wasn't something they had fought over for months.

  
  


Freddie blinked twice, not really getting Tommy's point. But he hadn't understood him in a while so he decided he should just play along.

  
  


"Well, you blessed us, my dear.", he teased, "So I guess you're the one who lost."

  
  


"I didn't really have a choice..."

  
  


"Don't you dare!", he cried, his cigarette slowly consuming itself in his hand, "I gave you a choice."

  
  


Tommy gasped. "You call _that_ a choice? It was a childish daydream".

  
  


Something crushed in Freddie's chest and he couldn't tell whether he was angry or hurt.

  
  


"It was a choice.", he said slowly, his fists clenched, "It was me, telling you I was still yours if you wanted me to."

  
  


A smug smile appeared on Tommy's face as he replied: "you were always mine anyway, weren't you?"

  
  


His confidence cost him his nose.

  
  


"Shut the fuck up, Tommy!", Freddie shouted and Tommy's smile was only bigger.

  
  


Freddie thought, since he was smiling through the blood, he could as well punch him again. So he did. A fist in his ribs and, this time, Tommy fell on the ground. He let out a scream, more of surprise than pain, but his smile never vanished. He ran a hand on his face and stared at the blood.

  
  


"Tell me, dear Freddie," he teased, "are you upset because I'm right?".

  
  


The git was so proud of himself he made Freddie nearly lose his mind.

He kicked him again and again and again and Tommy never complained.

  
  


"You know," he said, heavily breathing, "it's funny because Ada, she's so happy she got to have your name, that she isn't a Shelby anymore. But, you," he pointed his red finger at him, "You wish you were a Shelby.".

  
  


Freddie hit him again, too angry to answer and not wanting to. He hit him with all his rage and Tommy never said a thing. He didn't even try to protect himself. He just watched him with his perfect blue eyes, sometimes damaged by pain. He watched him with the empty gaze he brought back from France and it made Freddie want to scream. He made Freddie want to cry. He made him want to forget.

When he finally decided he was done, he started to walk out but Tommy's voice stopped him.

  
  


"Freddie!", he called, a weaker voice than he intended, "by the way, I loved you too.".

  
  


Freddie opened his mouth, ready to say something, but shook his head and walked away for good. He left behind him a pretty bad injured Tommy lying on the ground in his blood. He didn't really care, he knew someone would eventually find him and take care of him.

  
  


But he still had a lump in his throat. He still felt uncomfortable, with a twist in his chest. Because Tommy never riposted. He had hit him pretty bad and he didn't even try to defend himself. He could have killed him and Tommy would have let him.

  
  


Because he wanted him to.

  
  


And that thought alone was scarier than any war ghosts Freddie had.

  
  


~

Freddie had asked to see him. Freddie wanted him to come to visit him at the hospital.

  
  


"He's dying.", Ada had said.

  
  


So Tommy went. And they talked. And it felt weird. It felt wrong. It felt like he had Freddie back when he wasn't his at all. But he talked anyway. Mostly, he listened. He used to talk a lot with Freddie when he was younger. But the war stole his voice among all the other things. He smiled, he tried to. Freddie tried to smile as well. They hated it. It was uncomfortable, so far away from what they had.

  
  


"I should have run with you that night.", Tommy cut him in the middle of a sentence he wasn't listening.

  
  


Freddie blinked, opened mouth. "You what?"

  
  


"When you asked me to, after France, I should have."

  
  


"But you didn't. You laughed at me, called me naive and walked away. You looked at me like I was a stupid child who couldn't understand the world."

  
  


"I wasn't sure you meant it... I thought... I thought you hated me when we came back, I thought-" he mumbled, looking at his shoes and biting his lip.

  
  


"I never hated you, Tommy." Freddie interrupted.

  
  


"But after France you..."

  
  


"No! You fucking pushed me away, that's what happened," he shouted again, "I would have run back to you Tommy, with just one bloody word. But you never wanted to. And I got tired of waiting."

  
  


Tommy moved on his chair, uncomfortable.

  
  


"There was Ada and then well it was too late... And I don't know, we weren't just kids anymore, we couldn't just do what we wanted. I was... I was trying to be a man." He lifted his gaze.

  
  


Freddie snorted.

  
  


"Yeah, you were never really a kid anyway, were you?"

  
  


"Never had the chance." Tommy smiled.

  
  


Freddie smiled back and the silence wrapped them as they got lost in their memories. Tommy didn't know how much time passed but he weirdly felt good. He had finally said something that had been stuck in his throat for years.

  
  


"You will talk, right ?" Freddie's weak voice broke the silence of his hospital room.

  
  


"What?" Tommy frowned.

  
  


"At the funeral, Tommy, will you talk as you promised ?"

  
  


Thomas looked blankly at the white wall in front of him. He remembered that promise so well it hurt. It felt so old, so long ago. They were still boys, they were still in love. The pale, skinny and dust-covered face of Freddie flashed in front of his eyes. Candlelight flickering around them as they were wrapped up in each other's warmth. When the boy was so scared of death, of being forgotten, Tommy had promised he'd make sure to tell the greatest speech about him at his funeral. It was the right thing to say at that time. Freddie had seemed pleased with the idea, enough to stop from shaking, and Tommy had kissed the top of his head, ordering him to sleep.

  
  


He shook his head, clearing the memories away. It seemed so far and yet it had never been so close.

  
  


"You know I only said that because I was sure I'd die long before you would?" He asked.

  
  


"Well, you almost did." Freddie reminded with a smile.

  
  


"And you had to save me." Tommy dramatically sighted and Freddie laughed, a broken sound that soon turned into a cough.

  
  


Sometimes, Tommy wished he'd really took that bullet and, sometimes, even Freddie wished he'd let him.

  
  


"So, will you?" He asked again, once he got his breath back.

  
  


"You'd have to die to see it. " Tommy said before standing.

  
  


He left without turning back, his heart way too heavy in his chest.

  
  


~

  
  


Freddie died on a Monday morning.

  
  


Tommy bearly slept as if some part of him already knew. When he went downstairs, Ada was crying in Polly's arms. He nodded to his aunt and took Karl out of his bed, and went for a walk, the sleepy kid in his arms. Polly wanted to protest, she almost did, but he heard his sister's voice, thick, trembling from the tears:

  
  


"Let him, Pol."

  
  


So he walked with that boy curled upon his chest. So he walked with the only thing he had left of Freddie. He thought he'd cry. The Tommy who went to France would have cried, with all his body shaking and all his soul aching. But the Tommy who came back didn't have enough tears left to cry. He listened to his nephew crying, thinking that boy had enough tears for them both.

  
  


He took Karl to all the places he went with his father. As much as he hated it, every street of the city reminded him of Freddie. There was that wall, at the back of the pub, where Freddie had kissed him for the very first time. A real kiss. A kiss that meant something, unlike the ones Tommy used to shut him up. They were seventeen and halfway drunk, wild, free. Everything they had lost.

  
  


There was that other street, near Freddie's old flat, where they had their first fight. That brick, where his blood landed when Freddie punched him after calling him an asshole. It was so long ago, Tommy couldn't remember what the fight was about. He only remembered it had been a violent one. Even Polly had to come to find them to tell them to stop being idiots. It had been the first time Freddie had left without saying goodbye and it had been the very first time Tommy had been scared. Not because of the blow but because Freddie had never looked at him with that much anger in his eyes. He got scared he might lose Freddie when he was sure he'd have him forever.

  
  


There was that bridge, where Freddie and Ada would meet. Where Tommy confronted his old friend. He couldn't tell what hurt more, that fact Freddie wanted to marry his sister or the fact they kept it from him. Sure he would have disapproved, Ada had thought it had to do with political opinions and none of the boys would have dared to contradict her. They had always been a secret. What they had shared, before France, before it all went wrong, had remained theirs and only theirs.

  
  


Tommy sat under the bridge, Karl singing childish songs against his chest, reminding him he still had a heart somehow. He could see Freddie again, pride lifting his head up, challenge lighting up his eyes. " _I don't give a fuck what you say, Tommy, we'll be together whether you like it or not so you better start liking it now."_ and Tommy, who was supposed to be the scary dark one, had laughed. Because he loved seeing his friend like this, it reminded him of why he had loved him so deeply.

  
  


"You could have told me." he had said anyway.

  
  


"Would that have been a good thing though?"

  
  


"Of course not."

  
  


And they had laughed together. And Tommy had never felt that alive since the war ended. But as soon as Freddie had been gone and he had found himself alone under this bridge, it had hit him. He had lost Freddie. This time, Freddie wasn't his anymore. And there was nothing he could have done.

  
  


  
  


There was a time when it was enough. There was a time when loving each other was enough. There was a time, before they went to war before the reality came and crushed them, where they were happy. There was a time when they could only be two boys trying to be in love, trying to understand what it meant to be who they were, what it meant to grow up. And they had to grow up far too quickly. They woke up one day, nearly over their teenage years and they had to be adults by the end of the day. There was a time when kisses on bruises were enough but you can not kiss an inner wound.

  
  


There was a time when _they_ were enough.

  
  


There was a time when running through wild fields, hands linked, loud laughs was enough. There was a time when staying up at night, sharing a cigaret, thinking of what they would become when they'd be older, was enough. There was a time when fighting for no stupid reasons and making up with kisses was enough. There was a time when Freddie wasn't married to his sister. There was a time when Freddie wasn't his nephew's father.

  
  


_There was a time when Freddie was alive._

  
  


Freddie died on a Monday morning and, when he did, all that was left of the twenty-year-old Tommy died along with him.

  
  


  
  


"You loved him", Ada said as she put back her sleeping son in his tiny bed.

Tommy didn't have the energy to deny. And it wasn't even a question. It was his little sister being way too smart or him, being too tired to keep his mask on. But he didn't nod either, it wasn't necessary. Ada knew and it was too late anyway.

  
  


"He loved you too.", she felt the need to add.

  
  


Tommy looked at her, empty blue eyes, that same broken gaze he had when he came home from war. He looked at her and only shrugged.

He knew that. Freddie had actually told him, long ago, when they were still young, young enough to believe it mattered. He saw his sister looking at her nails, nervously playing with some skin, and felt the need to say something too.

  
  


"He loved you, Ada, he really did.", his dark voice broke the silence.

  
  


He said that because it was true. He had seen the love on his former lover's face. He knew Freddie had loved Ada with all his soul because he had seen what Freddie looked like when he was in love.

  
  


Ada nodded a sad smile on her lips, "I know he did...", she whispered and her eyes were getting wetter.

  
  


Tommy slowly moved toward her, not knowing if he had the right to. He took her in his arms anyway, violently reminded of their childhood. He was sent back, years ago, holding his little sister who was afraid of the dark. The difference now was that the light was on. They were grieving and, no matter how bright the light was, it could never be enough.

~

And, of course, he had loved Grace. Of course, he loved her. In a way he never knew was possible after the war, after Freddie. In a way, he thought he'd never find again.

  
  


She was the light into the darkness of his life. She was everything he always thought he didn't deserve. She was so much more than what he'd dared to hope for. But she was Grace and she wasn't Freddie. And, as much as Tommy tried, Freddie was and will always be, special.

  
  


He was the love young Tommy had loved and, for that only, he was the most precious thing he'll ever have.

  
  


~

Ada was worried about him. All of his family was worried, he knew that, but Ada had her own way to show it. She insisted he spent an evening at her house with Karl and her. She didn't like the idea of him wandering in the woods during the night. He had agreed, of course, he had. He didn't want his little sister to worry about him. It wasn't her job. Polly was way better at it.

  
  


So he spent time with his nephew and his sister. They left him a moment because it was time for the boy to go to bed and Ada always wanted to tuck him in bed, something she had missed during her childhood. Tommy hugged Karl goodnight and watched him walk behind his mother surprised he still let her do that at 10 years old.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd tucked Ruby or Charles in bed. He was being a bad father, he knew that but it was so fucking hard. His head hurt him again and he had to close his eyes for the pain to go.

  
  


He smiled when he opened them again. He wasn't alone anymore.

  
  


"He looks like you", Tommy said looking at his nephew's picture on the wall, "it's like I'm 10 all over again."

  
  


A laugh escaped Freddie's lips.

  
  


"Of course he does, he's my son."

  
  


"He is caring and polite. He respects his mother. You're doing a great job. You are a good father, Freddie, really. You love him so much."

  
  


"Yeah, I did a good job as long as I was there." Freddie conceded with a smile.

  
  


"Was ?" Tommy's voice cracked and he looked around the room, his head spinning again, "Are you saying..?", he couldn't finish his sentence.

  
  


Freddie smiled proudly, arms crossed on his chest.

  
  


"I'm dead, Tommy.", he said, "buried deep. Probably turned to dust by now."

  
  


He seemed to enjoy the way Tommy's face crumbled. "You're not real," the dark voice finally realized.

  
  


"No. And you're torturing yourself, again."

  
  


Freddie laughed, younger than ever, he looked more peaceful than he'd even been and Tommy wondered if, maybe, that was what death did to people. Because he clearly _was_ dead. The Freddie Tommy saw had nothing to do with the Grace he was used to. She was warm, bright; she felt safe. Freddie, on the other hand, was pale and cold, almost scary. He looked more like a ghost than a hallucination.

  
  


"You should let me go, now, for real."

  
  


"Don't leave me again," he asked, voice trembling, sounding as weak as the boy who went to France.

  
  


Freddie smiled softly, he had never looked at him with that much tenderness. "But Tommy, I never came back."

  
  


And something broke in Tommy's chest as the familiar silhouette vanished from his room.

  
  


"Freddie!", he cried, but the wind hitting the window was the only answer he got.

  
  


He put his head on his hands until he heard Ada's voice.

  
  


"You saw him.", she whispered as the entered the room, shaky voice, tears hidden in her eyes. The new Ada didn't cry anymore but the name of her dead husband still managed to bring her to the edge. "I heard you," she added, "you said his name.".

  
  


She didn't need to say whose name. Tommy nodded poorly, pale face, trembling hands. He looked more dead than ever. She took him in her arms, stroking his back. "He's gone, Tommy."

  
  


"I know, he told me," Tommy answered and Ada did her best not to burst into tears.

  
  


"He's gone...", he repeated to himself.

  
  


Gone.

  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you liked it! I love them so much and I wanna hug sad Tommy so much


End file.
